


We are the champions

by Mrs_frizzle



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, CEO! Aziraphale, Catholic Guilt, Did I Mention Angst?, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Older Aziraphale, Rich! Aziraphale, Slow Burn, So much angst, Strangers to Lovers, Twink! Crowley, Younger Crowley, american writer attempts british lingo, stripper! crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_frizzle/pseuds/Mrs_frizzle
Summary: Excerpt:"So, my dear, I was wondering what made you choose this profession." Noticing Crowley's frown he stumbled upon saying, "you are clearly gifted darling, I just wonder what would make you choose such a… well to be a…""To be a dirty slut upon the dance floor." Crowley bit out angrily.Or Aziraphale is a closeted CEO and Crowley is a stripper! Heavy Angst! <3Chapters will be added on slowly! <3





	1. Chapter 1

He took her hand as she dragged him up front and center to the side of the stage. "This is really quite silly my dear." He said, blushing slightly at the display before him. "Oh come off it, you know you enjoy it as much as I do." She said laughing, giving him a mysterious wink. That was an absurd statement. This was not his kind of scene. Rather this was a scene for people the exact opposite of who he was. To say Aziraphale wasn't tempted by the sin of these places was probably an understatement. He was loyal to his faith. that wasn't to say he felt repulsed by it. It was more that he felt embarrassed witnessing it. He didn't understand how the men and women in the industry could feel so comfortable as to 'bare it all' to complete strangers.

Agnes could see he was completely out of his element in a place like this. That was particularly why it was such a fun idea to bring him along. The club wasn't nearly as sleazy as most she had been in. It was a coed establishment however it was specifically 'guys night' tonight. Normally, that meant the night was for the guys. That was not the case in this establishment. This night was specifically for the ladies, as well as men who swung that way. The 'guys night' was simply a night of only men dancing upon the stage. They were sitting up close to the stage where the high-class tables were. It had cost more but so far it had been well worth it. Whenever she glanced Aziraphale's way she could tell he wanted nothing more than to fall into a black hole and die of embarrassment. There was something else about him, his cheeks were tinged pink. Interesting, she had to investigate this development further.

The men dancing in scantily clad clothing were attractive, as most male dancers typically are. Aziraphale didn't think it was particularly sinful to dance scantily clad. It was simply attire and business attire at that. The *ahem* 'dancer club' was definitely not as 'disgusting' as he was expecting. In fact, if he hadn't known that this club was for strippers he would have guessed it was a high-class establishment. If the price was anything to go by he probably should have known as such, to begin with. The only thing that put him off was the music blaring overhead. That was most definitely going to give him early hearing loss. The other thing would have to have been the strobe lights. They would put anyone who wasn't drunk out of their mind into epileptic shock. He probably should go for a drink, however, he was unsure if it would be anything other than low-quality liquor. He quite preferred the 'good stuff'. Well, that was what he liked to call it.

It seemed Agnes was twelve steps ahead of him as per usual. A woman wearing what seemed to be nothing more than lingerie hopped over. She bent over dramatically and gave them both two shots of liquor. Agnes held up her glass in a toast to him. "A very happy birthday to me." She exclaimed and they bumped the glasses into each other. "Cheers," he said and knocked the glass back. Oh, that was definitely a mistake. The liquid was very foul and the buzz that came after it barely made up for it. It was, however, quite a buzz. Aziraphale wouldn't necessarily peg himself as a lightweight. It was more than he was used to less of alcoholic content in his wines back in his apartment.

He was glad to have the liquid courage as he looked back to the stage. It seemed that a new dancer, one that gained high applause, was about to make an appearance. He had missed the name that was given over the speakers. What he didn't miss was the reaction from the crowd. The women in the audience were practically shouting his ear off. He looked back up to the stage noticing the song was completely different from the normal songs that had played. Queen of all artists blared on the speakers as a man sauntered onto the stage. This was much to the approval of the audience. There was something different about this fellow. For one, Aziraphale couldn't take his eyes off him as he strutted up to the pole. That was probably for the fact that the man was wearing a red suit. That was something that he hadn't seen previously. All the other men who had performed beforehand were wearing practically nothing. He was also completely covering his eyes with glasses. That seemed to add to his mysterious appeal.

The man finally had his back arched against the pole as he waited for the lyrics to start. Start they did much too Aziraphale's guilty approval. As the man leaned his back against the pole he slowly slithered his arse downward against it. Every so often he'd grind his hips upwards toward the audience in time with the beat. With a hint of a sly smile he slowly unbuttoned his red jacket. There was no shirt underneath much to Aziraphale's surprise. As he peeled the shirt off his body smooth, pale skin gleamed before Aziraphale's eyes. Slowly the man walked towards the center stage. He sauntered his hips this way and that as if he had all the time in the world. Once he got in front of the stage he ripped his jacket off and threw it off into the audience. A rally of girls scrambled out of their seats to retrieve it. The man gave a knowing look and slowly sauntered up to the pole once more. With one fluid movement, he ripped off his tight fitted jeans which left him with only his long pants in place.

Wrapping a leg around the pole he smoothly slithered upward upon it. His toned muscles rippled as he worked his way upwards. Every so often he ground his hips against the pole. He finally climbed up towards the top of it. Wrapping his legs around the pole he slowly arched his torso towards the crowd. Slowly he dragged his hands from his hips towards his hair. He ruffled the ginger curls and flung his hands outwards. The pole was spinning with the intensity of his weight. He held the pose for quite a while. Aziraphale watched as the leg muscles worked to hold the man's body upright. Once more he arched his torso back towards the pole. With all his upper body strength he held his hand onto the pole, kicking his feet towards the audience. His legs froze into a position and he held firmly onto the pole with his hands. The pole twirled his body around. Aziraphale was impressed at the dexterity the man possessed. He was swift as a snake and as graceful as a ballerina. Aziraphale's cheeks were tinged pink with the erotic performance before him. Clearly, this man was rather skilled as well as in his element with this.

The man let his legs wrap back around the pole. Swiftly he gracefully slithered back towards the ground. Once back on the ground he did a backflip away from the audience. With the poise of a ballernia, he twirled back towards center stage. On the last beat, he grabbed his pants and tore them off. Aziraphale was stunned as they revealed cute women's panties. The audience erupted into cheers and euros poured upon the stage. The man bowed dramatically with a big smile which seemed to fade quickly as it came. Once the song was over he walked back towards the curtains. "Well," Agnes said and Aziraphale strained his neck quickly away from the man towards her. He was so fast about it, it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. "That was quite the performance, don't you say?" Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. Aziraphale realized his mouth was drier than the dusty books upon the shelves of his apartment. That simply wouldn't do.

Quickly he reached out to the closest drink in his proximity. That drink happened to be on the tray of a vixen walking by. With a swift motion, he threw his glass back. That, as it turned out, was a horrible mistake. The liquor content was twice the amount as was in his first shot. The drink also was pretty dry. He ended up in a coughing fit because of it. Agnes slapped his back a couple of times till he was no longer coughing up a storm. "Well, I have never seen you react in such a way. No less to a gentleman of all people." She couldn't mask her gaze with faux innocent and Aziraphale glared at her. He didn't like what she was implying. He didn't have those temptations, those urges, that he had held in the past. Yes, those sins were a thing of the past now. Not that he had ever acted on them. Abstinence seemed to do wonders for him in that regard. He would find some beautiful lady to settle down with. It was all in gods plan. Liquid courage, however, didn't seem to agree with those plans.

"My dear, I can assure you I was simply taken with the performance. I mean, he was by far the most talented of all the performers." He adjusted his tie so it was loose on his neck. It seemed to suddenly be getting quite hot in the room. Agnes's gaze was wary of him as he deflected. There was something he wasn't sharing. Regardless, she knew she'd get it out of him in the end. She always had. "Right, well I will agree with you he was quite talented," she looked toward the curtains, noticing that all the dancers were coming out. A plan sparked into her mind. "So it shouldn't be a problem if I drag him over here."

Aziraphale smiled nodding his head as she talked, "Exactly, he is talented and that is all that.. I beg your pardon? Invite him over? Whatsoever for?"

It was too late. Agnes had gained the attention of the dancer and was waving him over. The man, much to Aziraphale's dismay, was walking over. He squirmed like a misbehaved child in his seat. The man was no longer in the panties, thank goodness, he was back in regular men's pants. That didn't seem to matter in the slightest. Regardless of the man's attire, he looked quite more scrumptious up in person. Aziraphale was utterly fucked. He was too busy ogling at the man to notice that Agnes had slipped him 100£. She whispered something into his ear and the man nodded his head. He smiled devilishly and turned his attention towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale swallowed as the man sauntered up to him. Before he could complain, the man situated himself on his lap. Oh dear, that was rather lovely. He winced as he realized he was rather aroused. Hopefully, that wasn't noticeable. To be fair the man probably dealt with worse. The man, who was unnamed, still had his glasses on much to Aziraphale's disappointment.

That disappointment wouldn't last for long because the man ground his hips sinfully against his own. There was that delicious relief he so desperately needed. Instantly his hand flew towards the man's waist. "No touching," the man rasped angrily. His face had distorted to something quite terrifying. _That must be a rule of the club_ , Aziraphale thought to himself. Bashfully he lowered his hands back to the seat of the chair. As he did so the man went back to smiling devilishly. Aziraphale was to drunk to realize the smile was for show. The man ground his hips downwards to Aziraphale. He slowly ran his hands across his own body seductively. His hands glazed over his own nipples which seemed to have perked with interest. It was taking all of Aziraphale's willpower not to grind his hips upwards. That, he figured, was probably frowned upon as well. It was driving him mad that he wasn't able to touch the man. Still, he complied.

The man dragged his lips through his teeth, biting down as he moaned for show. Oh, this man was going to be the death of him. Slowly he ran his hands upward towards his hair, carefully fluffing it in a way that seemed practiced. He was utterly beautiful in this debauched state. Aziraphale would later chalk this thought process as being spurred by his drunken state. Presently he was wondering if he could at least talk to the handsome man. Surely that must be allowed? He craned his neck towards the man's ear. "What is your name, my dear." He said softly. He didn't want to scare him. He couldn't see it but the man had cringed at the mention of 'my dear.' Despite this, he remained professional. At least as professional as a stripper can remain in his career. The man leaned into Aziraphale's ear, whispering in a husky voice, "it's whatever you want it to be." and he moved his head away from Aziraphale's own.

This didn't sit well with Aziraphale who frowned slightly. "No darling, I'd love to hear your real name." In hopes to get the man to comply he beamed his most dashing smile. That did things to the man. Things he would otherwise like to suppress. Aziraphale could tell he was struggling in his mind whether or not he should tell him his actual name. The internal battle was prevalent on the man's face. He wanted to take back his question. Before he could the man rasped, "Crowley," shrugging as of it was no big deal. Even drunk Aziraphale could tell he was uncomfortable with this conversation. Slowly that awkwardness morphed back into practiced seduction. "What about you, angel." He practically moaned out. The moan was more real than he meant it to be. Crowley had never used pet names before, but Angel seemed to fit him well. It was starting to feel less and less to Crowley that this was actually for show. He was becoming attached. That simply wouldn't do. "Angel?" Aziraphale whispered, "I rather like that nickname."

Crowley blushed furiously as Aziraphale spoke. Fuck he had heard him. Aziraphale continued on with his speech pretending not to notice how he affected Crowley. "Well, my dear, my name is Aziraphale." He beamed with such intensity Crowley wondered how the sun could possibly be brighter. "Right," Crowley ground out awkwardly. He had to get away from him. Work was no time to get feelings. That had not worked out for him in the past. The song changed and Crowley got up suddenly. "Sorry," he apologized, "next client," It was an excuse, but no one had to know that. Aziraphale stared at him noticing it looked like he truly wished he could stay. The problem was Crowley did very much want to stay. The tension between them was thick as butter and could probably be cut with a knife. Crowley was the first to break the trance. His vulnerable mask quickly morphed into fake confidence and he sauntered away from Aziraphale.

Agnes knew better than to pester him as his gaze followed Crowley's figure. She had seen that look before. He sighed like a lovesick fool. "Oh dear," she whispered to herself. "What have I done."


	2. Chapter 2

As the night paraded on Aziraphale couldn't take his eyes off of Crowley. His body pressed up against the people in the club was downright sinful. He couldn't help but think it was incredibly erotic as well. He wished he could gauge his attention once more but the man seemed to be avoiding him. Hours would pass by in the club an Aziraphale would watch him dance on. Whether it be the pole or on a person's lap. Agnes kept a worried glance at him every so often. As much as she loved the buffet of men before her, she was getting extremely tired. It was already morning and she had many papers to write for her publisher. In fact, that was how she and Aziraphale met. He was her publisher. In fact, Aziraphale was a well-known CEO of a book publishing company. Looking at him you would hardly guess he was rich. That was because he preferred to keep it that way. He preferred the minimalistic life. Agnes was one of his most profitable employees. Even as times turned to the digital age books were still selling like hotcakes. Many people still loved to read.

He had started his company in the late 90s. He had been in his early twenties at the time. Now, as he was pushing fifty, his company was booming as ever. Befriending Agnes had to have been destiny. It is probably fair to say that their friendship was the start of the company. It was safe to say her books are what made the company hit its big break. Agnes had come to him at the start of it all. No one had believed in her works and for good reason too. Her grammar was atrocious due to the fact of her dyslexic state. Aziraphale believed that they could make it work. With the help of a generous editor, they made it work very well indeed. Ever since then they were thick as thieves. It was ineffible whenever they were together. Years of working together made them closer than ever. Because of this Agnes had learned that Aziraphale was very much a workaholic. As it was her birthday she had convinced him to tag along to this club. It was all in good fun, however she was starting to regret her decision. Clearly, there were some hidden secrets that she hadn't learned about Aziraphale. He seemed to not realize how far those secrets were hidden in his closet. As she tired throughout the night she couldn't help but feel guilty for tempting him.

It was not that Agnes felt that this temptation was wrong, no. It was for the fact that Aziraphale seemed to have undoubtedly fallen for the stripper. She could see him pining like a lovesick fool. From years of knowing him and his religious views, she could tell he was still in denial. He was devout in his Catholic beliefs which posed a problem. Like most good writers Agnes was very in tune to others emotions. Aziraphale, bless him, couldn't mask them to save his life. He would undoubtedly lose to a game of poker. His emotions were bared for all the world to see. She, of course, didn't have the heart to share this with him. This development could only end in pain. Her eyes began to droop as morning fell upon them. It was imperative that she must go home. "Aziraphale," she called trying to break him of his trance, "I need to call a cabby back." Aziraphale nodded in agreement, however, his focus was still on the man in red. She wondered if he had heard her at all. That was Aziraphale for you. Agnes shook her head fondly.

This obsessive behavior wasn't typical for her friend. Well, actually that wasn't true. His obsessiveness had only shown in her work life. Not once had it appeared in his personal. It was nice to see him break his shell for once. She pitied the poor man and walked out of the club to find a cabby. It was getting closer and closer to the morning. The guests of the night club were slowly piling out onto the streets. Aziraphale's eyes were still trained upon Crowley. Crowley, at the moment, happened to be on stage counting the money he had earned that night. The money was sorted into different piles before him. Wordlessly his lips moved as he counted the euros. Before he knew it Aziraphale was walking up near the stage towards him. Still, in awe, he didn't know what to say. Crowley looked up at him politely awaiting his response. He could tell that walking towards the stage was unintentional. Crowley waved his hand in front of his face. Finally, Aziraphale broke out of his spell. Crowley took pity on the man and sighed. "Fancy seeing you come to visit me, angel." His eyes were still covered with the dreaded sunglasses. Aziraphale blushed profusely and stuttered stupidly back to him, "Well my dear you are quite the performer."

Was that the right thing to say? Aziraphale couldn't tell. It was hard to gauge Crowley's reaction when the glasses covered his features so well. He looked awkwardly at his hands for a long awkward moment. Clearly, Crowley could tell he wanted to discuss more. He simply did not know how to go about it. Finally, he turned his pale blue eyes upon Crowley's covered ones and said, "So, my dear, I was wondering what made you choose this profession." Oh shit, that was the wrong thing to say. Noticing Crowley's frown he stumbled upon saying, "you are clearly gifted darling, I just wonder what would make you choose such a… well to be a…"  
"To be a dirty slut upon the dance floor." Crowley bit out angrily. 

Aziraphale blushed at the bluntness of his statement. This conversation was going down the gutter. "Well, my dear, I wouldn't put it that harshly." He sure hoped he could redeem himself.  
"Doesn't matter," Crowley said matter of factly, "I know you were thinking it."  
Aziraphale was stunned by his implications. He was so stunned he failed to notice Crowley was getting up. Crowley walked down to where the audience had been, slowly sauntering towards the bar on the other side. Out of his daze, a frustrated Aziraphale followed him, "Well I wouldn't imply such a thing in that manner." He huffed, "that must account for something."

Crowley paused mid saunter and turned to face him. He looked him up and down slowly. Even though he couldn't see his eyes move Aziraphale squirmed under the intensity of it. After a long, awkward while Crowley visibly deflated. "What do you want." He finally said, giving a tired glance in the business man's direction. Aziraphale was stunned for he didn't really know the answer to that himself. "Let me buy you lunch." He finally blurted out. That was not what he meant to say. Well, he really didn't intend on saying anything. Surely this couldn't be taken the wrong way. Crowley laughed harshly for a long while. "You can't buy me." He said pushing past Aziraphale. He left Aziraphale there with his mouth wide open. He stood there like a petrified piece of wood for a long while. Well, that had gone done like a led balloon. Fuck.

It wasn't long before security finally got ahold of him. "Sir you really should just leave. We are closed." Aziraphale nodded and left without a struggle. This night surely couldn't get any worse. It didn't occur to him that the 'night' was actually early morning. He felt completely numb inside and he didn't know why. The world went by and the doldrums seemed to wash over him. He barely remembered to catch a cab. It was as if he was not within his body. Dissociating from afar he mindlessly made it to his flat. Rhythmically he took off his clothes and fell into bed, dreaming of nothing important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I add a third chapter? Let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to finish this! I hope you all enjoy the chapters that come. ;)

Agnes knew something was wrong when Aziraphale came into work precisely twenty minutes late. Usually practicality was his strong suit. In fact she couldn't remember a time when he had come to work late in all her years of working with him. As he walked up towards his office he passed her desk and she noticed his face. Oh dear, she had never seen him quite look like this before. His face was gaunt and a putrid pale color that only enhanced his less than flattering features. The bags under his eyes were so prominent that she felt a cuppa of tea could be made by his tears. His clothes were disheveled in the way that made her think he had dressed in the complete dark. In other words he looked absolutely pitiful. She also noticed he had gone for black coffee rather than a cup of tea. Who was this and what had they done with Aziraphale?

Before he could walk past her she tugged on the shirt sleeve which wasn't of the hand holding the cuppa. "Aziraphale," she started but abruptly stopped when he held a shaky finger up to her. She let go of his sleeve and began tutting over him. Walking around him she began to try to make his appearance more presentable. "Really dearie, I wish you would let someone fuss over you." They both knew he loved being fussed over, but he wouldn't allow himself to indulge in his selfish needs. Once she felt his clothes was presentable she went to her bag to grab a comb. "What in heaven's name did you get up to when I left?" As she was combing the nest of hair that was upon his head he hung his head.

He knew he had it bad, however he didn't know what he had it bad for. Once she felt he was sorted she turned him around to face her. Realizing he couldn't back out of this conversation he sighed again. "Ta, Agnes. I just got home late is all." The glare on her face was there as fast as it was gone. It didn't go missed by Aziraphale who sighed for the third time that morning. She clearly didn't believe him but she let him pass regardless. "Make sure you are presentable." She said, disappointment oozing into her tone. "We got a board meeting." 

Aziraphale's eyes bugged out comically wide. Fuck! How could he have forgotten! "Right... well pip pip my dear! Get those pages done. I must be off." He bustled off towards his office. She rolled her eyes, half in fondness and half in annoyance. Agnes may not be his assistant but at this point she might as well be. His assistant wasn't in the office currently. He had taken the week off for a family affair. Something about his son's elementary school graduation. Being the good boss he was, Aziraphale had felt it was imperative that he buggar off for that monumental event in his son's history. Of course he hadn't said it in such a perverse way. 

Things that had happened and that had yet to happen were becoming an annoyance. There was a proverbial itch under his skin which heightened his irritated state. The past, present, and future could quite frankly fuck off for all he cared. He didn't know the last time he had felt this peeved. In another huff of vexation he dropped his head onto his keyboard. That, as it turned out, was a huge mistake. The second he pinched his eyes together the night, or rather morning, came flooding back to him. "You can't buy me." He sat up straighter than a rod when that memory resurfaced. God, he had really messed that up. The most frustrating part was he didn't know what he did wrong. Certainly buying lunch was synonymous with buying an individual?

For the fifth time that day he huffed in frustration. Turning his blank attention towards his bust screen he began to ponder over this. What had he done wrong? Obviously he had meant for things to happen with the best of intentions. It wasn't like he was a sinner with mischievous ways. He eyes strained over to the chained cross hanging on his monitor screen. Normally, it gave him comfort to look towards his religious beliefs. Today, however, it seemed to irk him. And why should it irk him? He was a devout Catholic who had gone to church every Sunday.

In fact, why was he worried about an *ahem* exotic dancer in the first place? It wasn't as if he was a homosexual. God wouldn't be that cruel as to tempt him, would he? He turned his attention back to his monitor and mindlessly scrolled through emails. After a good ten minutes he gave up trying to be productive. This 'conundrum' was on the forefront of his mind. There was no point in doing work half-arsed. He had to get this topic resolved in his mind, or at least to the point where he could work again in peace. He eyes the cross once more and sagged in disbelief. 

This must be a test from god. That was the only explanation for this. There was no other reason for him to be stuck on this. If this was a test, had he passed it? Aziraphale swiveled his chair towards the desk drawer and pulled out his readers. With his spectacles hanging off his nose he returned his search into his drawer until he found a notepad and a pen. Clicking the pen once onto the desk he began to wonder how he would go about his writings. Writing was really the only way he could sort his thoughts in a productive manor. Of course, this notebook was not for office use. He had rather opposed the idea of having a journal when his brother had given it to him. Gabriel meant well, that he was sure of. 

Before he inched his pen onto his paper he realized that the blinds to his office space weren't closed. Hurriedly he propelled his chair to the blinds which surrounded the glass walls in his space. This was a practical measure which he reassured to himself. This was in no way the start of a paranoid meltdown. After the blinds were closed he swiveled his seat back to his desk. The blank piece of paper stared back at him in a taunting manor. 

Atleast, that's what he assumed the blank pages were conveying to him. Double clicking his pen he began to write upon his journal. He would refuse to call it the name it was given. He was a man and a man did not need a diary. That point would have been stronger if the words printed across the front cover hadn't stated otherwise. He scribbled in his neat script the ponderings he had, had that morning. Within a good thirty minutes he had gotten his emotions written off on the pages. He would have written more if it were not for his phone buzzing him. Right, he had a meeting right about now. He stood abruptly and smoothed down his suit. "Onto battle." He muttered and walked towards the conference room.

The day had gone by more naturally after that. As per usual it was another busy day at the office. CEOs got quite a bad rap when it came to the theory of their productiveness. Contrary to hold this morning had gone by he was actually quite a hard working bloke. He didn't believe in having everyone do everything for him. Simply he paid people to help with tasks that he himself could not get done alone. Idle hands are the devil's workshop after all. By the time he was finally getting ready to clock out he had forgotten the entire ordeal that had happened this morning. His busy schedule didn't allow those thoughts to ruminate in his mind. It wasn't until he got home and had crossed his doorway when he remembered his previous conundrum.

That was right, the exotic dancer. Aziraphale walked to his comfy old chair and turned on the telly. He would NOT let this inconvenience him this night, or ever obviously. No, he was not going to let the dancer have an affect on him. "You can't buy me." He cringed. The usual channel browsing didn't help. No, he simply wouldn't get closure unless he learned what Crowley had meant by that. Closure was exactly what he needed! Yes, he just had to understand what the man had meant and he would no longer be dwelling. That seemed easy enough. Aziraphale switched off the telly and grabbed his car keys. He had a dancer to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting interesting, aren't they?


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale didn't particularly like driving at night. In fact, if he could see it fit, he'd prefer to not drive at all. Driving was typically a slow ordeal for him. Agnes always teased that he drove like an old man. Of course at this he would ask her if she preferred to walk. This would only cause her to go into a giggling fit. Tonight he almost missed her company. A car seemed preferable to a cabby for he didn't particularly want to get sloshed tonight. No, tonight was about Crowley… if that was the man's name. Tonight was also strict for closure, no business would be mixed with pleasure. Or rather no pleasure would be mixed with business. What Aziraphale hadn't accounted for was that tonight was strictly a coed dancefloor. Oh how he had miscalculated!

When he was all paid for he decided he would sit up close to the stage. Those plans went out the window when he looked out from the bar. He was surprised to see that two stages had been set up tonight. There was a male and female dancer on stage. The dances were intimate but they never danced with each other. It was one thing to see one person dance upon the stage in a sexual manner but two! The two dancers would switch with each other on the sides of the stage. The man would be grinding the pole and the woman would be dancing provacitively on the other platform and vice versa. Aziraphale couldn't be blamed if his pulse raised at the display. It was simply human nature to enjoy a man and a woman preforming in erotic tandem. Right, a drink would probably calm his nerves. Thank goodness he had been starstruck by the bar.

The bartender was a petite little thing who was thankfully covered. She bounced from patron to patron in a hyperactive sort of manor. The other bar seemed keen at glimpsing at the performers on stage. "Pulsifer," she chastised in an American accent and slapped him over the head.  
"Christ sake Anthema," he grumbled as he rubbed at the spot that was now tender from impact.  
"Righto, what can I get for ya mate." Pulsifer monotoned at Aziraphale. That was a good question. He was too busy being fond over the bartenders debacle that he had forgotten the reason he was stopped before them. He didn't want to get smashed tonight for he had to drive back. "Just a light beer for me." He answered pleasantly. 

The man, Pulsifer, gave him a salute and went over to find a can of beer. Aziraphale couldn't help but want to make conversation. Being social was in his nature and he didn't want to face the stage just yet. When Pulisfer came back with a can Aziraphale decided to engage with him. "Pulsifer, right?" He looked up brightly at the young man. The man looked sheepish as he handed Aziraphale his drink. "Eh, to her it is," a blush covered his cheeks, "really Newton is alright with me." 

"Ta," Aziraphale said in thanks and looked knowingly at the girl. "American," he stated conversationally, "you two seem to have become domestic." Newton laughed sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. "Ya me and her been getting on fine," he murmured bashfully. Aziraphale couldn't help but notice a blush. It was obvious the chap had definitely been getting on fine with her. Actually, with the way she looked fondly his way he'd have to say they'd been getting it on as well. That must have been the reason for the slap. It did look rather painful. To be young and in love again. "You're a lucky man," he said fondly. Newton looked towards her and nodded in agreement. He seemed to be over the moon. "That I am." Anthema shot him a look which probably said something along the lines of, 'get to work or you'll wish a slap was the biggest of your worries tonight.' Even though the look was conveyed and Pulisfer took it as such, Aziraphale could see the affection bleeding into her eyes.

It had been awhile since he had been with someone romantically, even longer intimately. He figured he couldn't take the two from their job so he walked up towards the stage to sit down. He didn't sit nearly as close as he had before. Only Agnes could give him that amount of confidence. On the note of confidence he decided to drink the beer. The taste was unpleasant and too bitter for his liking. That seemed to be the way with most beers. Wines were by far his favorite but they had a tendency to make him tipsy faster. He only needed a bit of liquid courage to be able to see the buffet of flesh before him. Really, he wasn't even here for that sort of thing. Hopefully Crowley would emerge during a break.

Speak of the devil himself, Crowley was now on the dance floor. His partner seemed to be twice his senior. Aziraphale's eyes nearly bugged out at that. Surely a woman of that age wouldn't feel compelled to be in an industry as such? Like the night previously a queen song blared on the overhead. The lady, bless her, was not within the age range he fancied. She had to be old enough to be his mum and he did not want to think of his mum in such a state. That was why he looked at Crowley's form on the stage. It wasn't because Crowley was his type. He was simply more pleasant to look at. Aziraphale couldn't even come up with a good enough deflection for that last thought so he pushed it back.

Crowley was dressed in all black in another suit that seemed to be tailored similarly to the first. The elder lady seemed much inclined to start her performance on the pole, what a relief. Crowley was front and center on the other platform. When the lyrics started he dropped on his hands and knees onto the floor. That was something he hadn't done the night previously. In an inchworm like motion he ground against the floor. It was as if he were making love to the floor. That was the tamest way to put it. Aziraphale couldn't help but blush at the pure filthiness of it. Crowley pushed himself off the ground into his haunches and flipped over so that his groin was front and center. He thrust his way into a standing position.

Crowley then seductively peeled off his top coat and flung it towards the audience. He must have a lot of those then. If not it was extremely wasteful of a good product. In a fluid motion Crowley tore his pants off his legs revealing a garter and thigh highs. He wasn't wearing ladies panties this time. Instead he was wearing extremely tight knickers. They left nothing to the imagination. For that fact alone Aziraphale kept his eyes trained on them. Crowley went to the front of the audience and began thrusting his ass out towards the crowd. Ladies would take turns coming up to him and slipping £'s into his garter on both sides. His thighs were now covered in a plethora of cash. He walked over to the pole which the lady had gotten off of. Aziraphale had completely forgotten she had been on there in the first place. 

Crowley sauntered up against it, grinding against it to the beat. He seemed keen on holding onto it from behind and slipping downward to the floor. Rotating his hips around in a sinful motion he turned back up towards the pole and began climbing. Just as graceful as before he slithered up it. His muscles were lean but they flexed as he moved. Once he was in the air he ground up against the pole in a faster motion. In a fluid swoop he glided down only to be stopped by his legs clinging tightly against it. It was pure sex on that pole. Gracefully he let himself fall towards the ground and he bowed. The song was over. The song was over? Aziraphale was both happy and sad to see him walk off into the crowd. 

Actually, no he wasn't. He finally had his chance to talk to him. All he had to do was to get Crowley to come over and talk to him. He was about to stand but the tent in his pants made him do otherwise. How had he gotten erect? That wasn't possible. "Aziraphale," at the sound of his name he bumper his knee sharply against the table. "watch it!" The voice chastised. Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley standing in front of him. "Oh, uh, Crowley!" He winced at his awkwardness as Crowley winced at the usage of his name. "In here I'm Anthony." He mock whispered. 

Aziraphale looked down in shame before he turned his attention back up to him. "Right, well it turns out you are just the chap I wish to see."   
Crowley smirked, "oh am I?"  
"Yes precisely," Aziraphale bit out uncomfortably.  
Crowley's smirk faltered but he was quick to fix it. Sighed dramatically he situated himself in Aziraphale's lap and began grinding, smiling wickedly as if he found (or rather felt) something amusing, "Someone's happy to see me. Make it worth my while will you." Stopping his ministrations he held out his hand expectantly. Aziraphale whined at the loss of contact. He would later deny this completely albeit in his head at night.

He realized he had to pay to get that contact. "Right," he said breathlessly and reached in his pocket to get a could £'s. Crowley snatched them from him counting them quickly. Doing the math in his head he said, "this'll give you half a song." Aziraphale didn't seem to mind giving in and gave him double. Crowley continued his grinding. Aziraphale desperately wanted to hold his hips in place as he ground against him but he refrained. He let his bony hips work their magic before he realized he actually came here for a reason. "I have something to say." He thought aloud. Crowley turned to face him as he continued grinding, "do you now?" He murmured, highly amused.

Yes, Aziraphale had something he wished to talk about but he couldn't remember. The pressure was too much. "Cat got your tongue," Crowley said fondly the smile prevalent in his tongue. At that he gave a sinful, yet fake, high pitched moan. Aziraphale couldn't concentrate on his thoughts. He was going to say something, something important. Then it got him, "yes," he breathed. He backpedaled, "I mean no. I *ah* was wondering…. mmm… why this is an okay form of payment and lunch isn't." He felt Crowley tense up in his lap. Crowley angrily faced him, pushing himself off his lap. "We're done here." He hissed harshly. Oh no.. they were only getting started.

Aziraphale caught him by his shoulder, "Wait," he called out. Amazingly enough Crowley did just that. Aziraphale spun him over to face him, "how can this be better than buying you dinner?" Crowley got up in his face and spit out furiously, "Because you can't buy me!!" But before he could get all the way through that sentence he looked at the heartbroken expression on Aziraphale's face. "Hang on," he said, "you mean lunch as in 'lunch lunch', not a euphemism?"

Aziraphale couldn't speak as a fear as to break the peace and nodded. Crowley through his head back and laughed mockingly. This seemed to be far worse in Aziraphale's opinion. "Are you serious? You, want to take me to lunch? Why, that's absurd." His laughter was short lived when he saw Aziraphale's puppy eyes. "Angel, I don't do dates. I'm not looking for a relationship. Business and pleasure do not mix." With that he walked off, leaving Aziraphale with more questions than answers.


End file.
